"That's the sort of thing I like. Go on!"
"Why ... of course you place yourself in a very equivocal position."
"Yes," said Madeline, "and what's more, it shows what pictures can do if they try. Of course he murdered her. What are you looking so sagacious for, Pupsey?" For the Bart's head was shaking slowly. He showed some symptoms of a wish to circumscribe the Middle Ages—to stint them of colour and romance.
"It might be a case to go to a Jury," said he grudgingly. Whereupon Mr. Pelly began to read in earnest.
"'To the most illustrious Duchessa Isabella, most beautiful among the beautiful daughters of her princely father, queen of all poesy, matchless among musicians, mistress of many languages, to whose improvisations accompanied on the lute the stars of heaven stop to listen....' This goes on for some time," said Mr. Pelly.
"Skip it, Uncle Christopher. I dare say she was a stupid little dowdy."
"Very likely! H'm—h'm—h'm! Yes—suppose I go on here: 'In obedience to your highness's august commands I have set down here the full story of my marvellous escape from prison in the Castello of Montestrapazzo, where I passed a semestre sottoterraneo'—six months underground—the Professor seems to have left some characteristic phrases in Italian. I won't stop to translate them unless you ask—shouldn't like to appear patronising!—'over twenty-five years since, being then quite a young man—in truth, younger than my son Gherardo, who is the bearer of this, whom you may well recognise at once by his marvellous likeness to his mother, whose affectionate greetings he will convey to you more readily than I can write them. For when I look upon his face it seems to me I almost see again the face as I painted it years ago, the sognovegliante look'—the Professor fancies the writer invented this word—dream-waking, that sort of thing—'the sognovegliante look of the eyes, the happy laughter of the mouth. And, indeed, as you know her now, she is not unlike the boy, and she changes but little with the years. For even the beautiful golden hair keeps its colour of those days....'"
At this point Madeline interrupted: "But that's the picture-girl down to the ground. How can anybody doubt it? Why, look at her!"
Mr. Pelly was dubious. "I don't know. I couldn't say. There's hardly enough to go upon."
"That's exactly like a scholarly old gentleman! But, Uncle Christopher dear, do just get up a minute and come here and look!" Mr. Pelly complied.